


A Song Unsung

by AnchorsOutAtSea



Series: The Witcher and the Bard [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnchorsOutAtSea/pseuds/AnchorsOutAtSea
Summary: Jaskier is the most annoying bard in all the land, but Geralt would be damned if he claimed the man wasn't growing on him.A fic in which Geralt realizes that he was wasting his time chasing sorceresses, when what he really wanted has been right in front of him (and annoying the hell of him) the entire time.
Relationships: Geralt x Jaskier, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher and the Bard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595032
Comments: 96
Kudos: 2567





	A Song Unsung

**Author's Note:**

> _Some_ of the information in this fic is more compliant of the video games, but there should be no confusion because the show has done a magnificent job at staying so similar to the games. If you do happen to have any questions at all, feel free to leave a comment and ask!

Geralt exhaled a sigh of relief when the torches of an inn came in to view. He had been on the road for weeks, and though he was used to sleeping outdoors in less than ideal circumstances, a spot to rest his aching muscles and feed and water Roach was welcome.

"Faster." He urged the mare, pressing his heels against her flank.

He arrived at the inn's door in moments, and slid off the back of his horse with a sore grunt. His last contract had been an awful one. A farmer had paid him a lot of coin to take down a wraith on his property. What the farmer had failed to confess was that the wraith was being bound to the farmland because he had buried her bones beneath the soil. A young woman had turned the farmhand down one too many times, and with the last time, he had dragged her into his barn, forced himself on her, and murdered her. While searching for the wraith, a peasant had approached him begging him to look for her missing daughter. The wraith was a night wraith, and Geralt had a few hours to kill before it would come out to play. He used his witcher senses to investigate her home and found the daughter's diary where she confessed that she feared for her life because the farmer wasn't taking no for an answer. That night, he found hay stained with blood in the barn, and it wasn't long before he was able to put two and two together. Geralt had become furious when he found out the whole story, and demanded that the degenerate provide him with double the coin once the woman's spirit had been laid to rest. Once he paid up, it didn't stop Geralt from bringing his sword down on him. The contract had left him weary, he could deal with monsters, but the cruelty and selfishness of mankind was always a different story. Besides, the man was just as much a monster as any of the ghouls, mourntarts, or rotfiends he had taken down. He would not be missed.

Geralt tethered Roach's reins to a fence just outside the inn, making sure there was enough length for her to reach the nearby water trough and grass. "Good girl." Her murmured, stroking her neck softly as he took off her blinders for the night and made sure his saddlebags were secure. With one last affectionate pat, he left her to her grazing and entered the inn, pleased to see that the first thing his eyes fell on was a bar.

As much as he wanted to order a drink, he immediately assessed the room. It wasn't busy, just the inn's help and a few small groups of men huddled at tables throughout the establishment. Some were in the company of women, but most appeared to be traveling merchants or bards, getting their fill of ale before moving on to another town. Some of the patrons looked his way curiously at the sound of the door closing behind him, but all went back to their drinks and company. Good. Either they didn't realize he was a witcher, or didn't care enough to bring attention to it. Either was welcomed more than someone with a disdain for witchers that would want to start a brawl or spit at his feet.

Approaching the barkeep, Geralt relaxed his shoulders a bit, attempting to come off as less intimidating when her eyebrows shot up at the site of him.

"What can I get ye?" She asked, following his lead and relaxing when she realized he wanted no trouble. "Some Redanian lager? A mug of Kwaedweni stout?" He noticed her peasant's clothing and uneducated dialect. 

"A bottle of your finest Erveluce." Geralt replied jokingly.

The joke must have went over her head, because she replied "Aye, but it'll cost you a pretty penny. One of the lads in the back has been buying it all evening, I'm 'bout out."

Geralt sighed. "The stout will do fine."

The portly woman nodded happily and quickly poured his drink. He handed her a few coins and picked a seat in a dimly lit corner nearby. He made sure his back was against the wall so he could continue to observe his surroundings.

Halfway through his second mug, Geralt was beginning to relax more. He was still getting curious glances from time to time, but no one was approaching him, and he was left to his own thoughts. He raised the mug to his lips, closing his eyes and talking a large gulp when a familiar, all too happy voice permeated his ears.

"Geralt?! _The Geralt of Rivia?!"_

Geralt groaned and opened his eyes slowly, not needing to do so to know that the excited voice belonged to Jaskier, the bard. He didn't know why Jaskier always greeted him like it was the first time they were meeting, like Geralt hadn't had the displeasure of running into him a millions times in various regions throughout the years. Jaskier approached him, his eyes lighting up like he hadn't been expecting to see him again. Which...maybe he hadn't. Jaskier had _insisted_ on tagging along during contracts numerous times before, some of which were particularly nasty. As a common bard seeing a witcher's life firsthand, it was very likely he had assumed that with each new hunt, the gods were running out of patience, and Geralt had met an unfortunate ending. 

"Jaskier." Geralt growled, greeting him evenly. 

Jaskier slid in the bench in front of the table Geralt was sitting at, the same irritatingly familiar pep in his movements. He leaned forward on his elbows, his chin rested atop his hands. "What brings _you_ to a place like _this_ , my old friend?" He asked, an easy smile spreading across his lips. 

"Hmm." Geralt grunted. Friend. That was an interesting word. "Alcohol." He finally replied shortly, raising his mug to Jaskier. 

"Just as good of a reason as any, I suppose." Jaskier replied, leaning back on his bench and making himself more comfortable. 

Geralt inwardly sighed. He supposed this was punishment for being too lax and not observing each individual in the inn, and assessing it's occupants as a whole. Had he had done a better job, he could have noticed the bard and turned right back around and kept on traveling until he found another place to rest. 

"Barkeep!" Jaskier exclaimed, looking over his shoulder and clapping his hands theatrically. Geralt looked over at the woman, amused to find her making a sour face and grabbing a bottle, already knowing what the man wanted. She came over to their table and dropped off a bottle of Everluce and a glass, walking away without saying the word. That answered who had been buying the expensive drink all night. Jaskier poured a hearty amount in his glass, and looked up at Geralt expectantly. Geralt just stared at him. "Oh, don't give me that look." Jaskier said, rolling his eyes and talking a large gulp from his cup. "Tell me, what's new? What beasts have been slain? What stories need to be told? I haven't written a new song in ages."

Geralt raised a single brow at him. "My life doesn't exist as fodder for your ballads."

Jaskier frowned, just as exaggerated as all his movements always were. "Maybe I also wanted to see how you're doing."

"You didn't." Geralt replied simply, finishing off his drink. He stood to get another, but before he could, Jaskier was emptying some of his bottle into Geralt's mug. He sighed and sat back down.

"Really, Geralt. How are you?" Jaskier's eyes scanned all of Geralt's body not hidden by the table. "I don't see any new scars, no rips in your clothing. And you're just as... hulking as ever, so not too bad, I'm guessing."

"I'm fine. Work is always steady, there's always new contracts. But nothing I can't handle."

Jaskier smirked and swished the wine in his glass with a gentle movement of his wrist. "I bet there's not much you couldn't handle."

Geralt just fixed him with a bored look. The bard would flirt with anything that moved, but his charm didn't work on Geralt. In fact, it didn't work on many, based on how many times Geralt had had to save his ass. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night." He attempted to stand again.

"Oh, nonsense! Finish your drink, Geralt." Jaskier exclaimed, his eyes growing wide.

Eyeing his mug, Geralt sat back down slowly. Everluce _was_ expensive, and someone as small as Jaskier shouldn't finish off an entire bottle alone. Especially not when Jaskier couldn't even hold his tongue sober. Geralt really wasn't in the mood to get woken up in the middle of the night because some fisstech addict was threatening to cut the bard's balls off for singing a song about how he had fucked someone's mother.

A delighted smile spread across Jaskier's face when Geralt decided to stay, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by someone else who had approached their table. "This 'im?" The drunk asked. Jaskier looked at the man in alarm. "This the witcher whose ass you saved all them times?"

Geralt quirked a brow and crossed his arms across his chest. Jaskier plastered on his most charming smile and glanced at Geralt sheepishly. "This is Geralt of Rivia." He replied to the drunk, not confirming nor denying the drunk's statement.

The man turned to Geralt, interest showing in his glassy eyes. "It true what he said 'bout you? That you liberated that settlement near Valen?"

Geralt dropped his arms, a little surprised. He was fully expecting the man to bring up a ridiculous story where Jaskier had turned the tables and claimed that he had saved Geralt from peril when the reality of the situation was always the other way around. "There were some bandits in that area that needed to be taken care of."

"He's so modest!" Jaskier stepped in, standing up and grabbing his lute from where it was strapped on his back.

"Jaskier, don't-" Geralt started, but Jaskier ignored him and immediately jumped up on the table, nearly knocking everything off. Geralt caught a candle so that the whole place wouldn't catch fire, and shot the bard a glare. Jaskier began strumming his lute and started on a song about how Geralt had wiped out an entire bandit camp. The intoxicated man was immediately captivated, and others were beginning to crowd the table to hear the song as well. Geralt frowned up at Jaskier. So much for trying to stay in the shadows.

The longer Jaskier sang, the more embellishments he added to the story, including that Geralt had gotten shot in the eye with an arrow and had to take down seven men at once, half blind. He sighed. There was no stopping Jaskier once he got started. He wasn't even _there_ , Geralt assumed that Jaskier had just heard the story from someone that lived in Valen.

When the song was over, some people clapped and threw some coins towards the two of them before returning to their tables. The first man even thanked Geralt, explaining that his sister lived in Valen and had been terrified to travel anywhere because of the bandits. When he walked away, Jaskier plopped back down in his seat, his cheeks tinged pink from exertion and a giant grin on his face. He began piling the coins in his coin purse, not bothering to offer Geralt any. The witcher didn't mind, he wouldn't accept it anyway. He didn't accept money for work he didn't do, it was just amusing that the first time he met Jaskier he was having bread thrown at him, and ever since he started singing about Geralt, it was coins being thrown at him.

"So, where are we off to tomorrow?" Jaskier asked, dropping his now heavier coin purse into the satchel his had slung over his shoulder.

"We?"

"Yes, we, Geralt. If you hadn't noticed, you are an absolute _hit_ with commoners, and there's not but so many stories I know about you."

Geralt drained his entire mug before slamming it on the table with a little more force than necessary. "You do realize that's what most of them are, right? Just stories. Untrue stories by the time they reach others' ears after you've sung about them."

"Don't be cross towards me for making you more interesting." Jaskier teased.

"Hmm. Am I not interesting enough already?"

Jaskier broke their eye contact, suddenly very interested in the scuffs on the table top. "You're plenty interesting." He confessed. He looked back up at Geralt before adding "The sincerity of the stories don't particularly matter. None of these people know you." He smiled, a tiny, unsure thing. "I'm not so sure anyone does."  
  
"The last time someone did, it didn't exactly work out in my favor." Geralt growled.  
  
"Ahhh! My interest is piqued. Did things not work out between you and the not-so-fair maiden, Yennefer?" The excitement was all too apparent and all too irritating in Jaskier's voice.  
  
"Don't meddle in other's affairs, Jaskier." Geralt snapped.  
  
At that, Geralt did stand up to leave, despite Jaskier's protests. He approached the barkeep, Jaskier right at his heels like a hungry dog. "I would like to rent a room for the night." Geralt stated.  
  
"Wish ya woulda said somethin' around the time of ye first drink." The barkeep answered, cleaning a mug with a rag that looked like it had seen better days. "Someone just bought the last one. We're full. Sorry."  
  
"Fuck." Geralt mumbled.  
  
"What a coincidence!" Jaskier commented. "I purchased my room earlier this evening!"  
  
"I'm not sharing a room with you." Geralt's voice left no room for argument as he headed for the door, heaving it open unceremoniously. Unfortunately, Jaskier could argue with a bag of grain.  
  
"Oh, come now, Geralt! Look, a storm is even brewing."  
  
The bard was right. The wind was whipping so powerfully that Geralt had to brush his hair from his face, and Roach was pulling at her reins in the direction of a makeshift stable that the inn had on it's property. It wasn't much, just a roof and enough of hay to cover the mud, but Roach clearly sensed that the storm would be bad enough to see it as vastly preferable. He too could sense that more than just a light rain was headed their way, and he wasn't in the mood to get soaked through. He turned around so abruptly that Jaskier stumbled into him, looking up at him with big, startled blue eyes. "I have to get Roach settled."  
  
Jaskier's grin lit up his entire face. "Of course. Anything for the noble steed- " He reached out to pet her and she immediately kicked out in irritation, causing him to jump back with an indignant squeak.  
  
Geralt hid the smile on his lips by turning to her and untying her reins, leading her over to the stable. He combed his fingers through her mane that had become tangled in the wind, and began unhooking her saddle.  
  
"Are you not afraid that some bandits will attempt to loot that while you're sleeping?" Jaskier asked, keeping his distance from the horse.  
  
"As you just found out, Roach can take care of herself. She can also take care of my things. I've seen her fearlessly kick a harpy to the ground. She can handle a few meddling thieves if need be." Geralt tossed the saddle over one of the wooden beams in the stable. He didn't bother tying her this time. If she wandered off too far, she would return if he whistled. He exhaled deeply. "I'll give you some coin for letting me-"  
  
"Nonsense. I recently bet on a game of Gwent and my winnings were more than enough. In fact, I chose to spoil myself a bit, and got the room with the biggest bed-"  
  
"We're _not_ sharing the bed." Geralt interrupted, making his way back to the inn.  
  
"Fine then, sleep on the floor for all I care." Jaskier crossed his arms and jutted his bottom lip out a bit. Geralt wasn't sure why the bard assumed petulant pouting would sway anything. Jaskier muttered their room number and grabbed the remainder of his Everluce. Geralt heard him ordering another bottle as he made his way to their room.  
  
  
  
Unsurprisingly, trying to sleep in the same room as Jaskier was nearly impossible. Geralt had blown out the candles immediately after setting up makeshift bedding on the floor, despite Jaskier's protests. Geralt had been trying to sleep for the better part of three hours, but Jaskier never _shut up_ and now was obnoxiously drunk, bragging about a noble lady he had recently slept with behind her husband's back. In extreme detail.  
  
"I'm telling you, the tits on this woman-"  
  
"Shut the _fuck_ up and go to sleep already!" Geralt finally roared.  
  
The room was dead silent, other than the rain beating against the roof, for a blissful minute before Geralt heard the bed squeak, Jaskier apparently flipping over with his back to Geralt. Geralt frowned, knowing he had hurt the man's feelings. "Thanks. For the room I mean."  
  
"I don't see why you're thanking me for a _floor_." Jaskier snapped.  
  
"It's better than lying in the dirt outside in all of this." Geralt gestured to the ceiling, forgetting that while he could see perfectly in the dark, the room was pitch black to Jaskier.  
  
The room was quiet for a moment before Jaskier spoke again. "Don't you ever tire of it? Sleeping outside on the cold, hard ground, fighting until you're drenched in blood? Never getting any _real_ rest?"  
  
"It doesn't matter." Geralt responded, his voice softer than he intended. "I wasn't given a choice."  
  
Jaskier snorted. "There's always a choice. For instance, you could've chosen to sleep in this bed, big enough to fit an entire bathhouse of people, but instead, you _chose_ to sleep on the floor like a diseased rat."  
  
Geralt sighed. If I sleep on the bed, will you finally shut your mouth and _go to sleep_?"  
  
The silence stretched on so long, it was almost uncomfortable. "I might." Jaskier finally said. Geralt let a loud growl of frustration and hoisted himself up off the floor, flopping down on the mattress heavily, causing Jaskier to exhale quietly in surprise. "Better?" Jaskier asked cockily.  
  
"Hmm." It was. A lot better. But Geralt wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Go to sleep, Jaskier." He was surprised to get no response, as Jaskier did just that.  
  


  


Geralt generally awoke abruptly after just a few hours of sleep because he often slept outdoors, his witcher senses alerting him to the slightest sound of a deer in the brush, or a bird cawing overhead. But with the safety and comfort of the inn bed, it was different. He woke gradually, slowly, the only reason for his wakefulness the skin prickle of his body being too warm. It took a moment for him to realize it was because a body was pressed against him snugly, an arm slung over his waist, and his eyes shot open, the mutated pupils immediately adjusting to the the much brighter lighting with no issues.

Jaskier was snuggled against his side, his head on Geralt's chest as his mouth gaped open comically, soft snores coming out. Geralt frowned down at him. How had that not woken him up earlier? He supposed knowing his was safe and sound in a locked inn room was a factor in his subconscious silencing his witcher senses long enough to actually sleep well. "Jaskier." He growled, trying to stir the bard. Jaskier mumbled something incoherent and shuffled closer to Geralt, almost nuzzling into his body So, he was a cuddler then. Geralt froze slightly when he felt a very prominent erection poking in to his hip. "Jaskier!" Geralt barked again, causing the man the shoot up in bed, alarmed.

"Wh-what?!" He asked, startled, looking around the room with wide, frantic eyes.

Geralt wasn't entirely sure what to say. "You didn't stay on your side of the bed." He decided to settle with.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and then rubbed the sleepily. "Oh, boo hoo. Did you really have to wake me up? I was having a good dream."

Fixing him with a bored look, Geralt pointedly looked down at Jaskier's tented pants. "I can see that."

Jaskier glanced down too, and while his cheeks reddened, he kept his facial expression surprisingly neutral. "I don't know what you were expecting, Geralt. Have you _seen_ yourself?" He gestured to Geralt's bare chest vaguely. "It's simply _unfair_ that you get to walk around looking like that." At first, Geralt was surprised. He knew Jaskier flirted with everyone despite their gender, but he had always assumed it was another one of the bard's 'charming' personality traits, and bore no correlation with attractions. Once the initial surprise was over, Geralt smirked, an amused noise working its way from his throat. Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt's amusement. "Oh, hardee har har." He shuffled off the bed awkwardly. "I'm going to go find the bath room in this establishment so I can bathe."

"Bathe. Right." Geralt replied, quirking an eyebrow and stretching just to put on a show. Jaskier's discomfort was more than enough of a reason to do so.

Jaskier's eyes raked over Geralt's body momentarily before he frowned at him. "Fucking' witchers..." He mumbled, exciting the room and closing the door with excessive force.

Geralt chuckled and sat up, stretching honestly this time. He began gathering his things, fully intended on leaving before Jaskier got back so that he wouldn't have to deal with him attempting to tag along. Unfortunately, it didn't go as planned, because nothing involving Jaskier ever did. Right as Geralt was about to open the door, it was ripped openly aggressively to reveal a nervous, though dripping wet Jaskier clad in nothing but a towel.

"Geralt! Oh? We're leaving? You always have the best timing..." Jaskier hurriedly entered the room, shoving past Geralt frantically.

"Jaskier... what did you do...?" Geralt asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Me? Nothing! It's just time for us to hit the road! That's all!" Jaskier began searching his bag quickly, dropping his towel unceremoniously. Despite trying to keep his eyes fixed on the back of Jaskier's head, Geralt couldn't prevent his eyes from roaming the newly exposed skin, but nudity wasn't enough to distract him from Jaskier's nervousness or the fact that he had apparently left the bath room quickly enough to not bother grabbing the clothes he had brought with him.

Any questions Geralt had were answered a moment later when the door swung open, a short, angry man bursting inside. "I know you cheated in gwent last night, you thieving bastard! Pinard told me about how you were bragging about keeping an extra card up your sleeve and switching it out when I wasn't lookin'!"

Jaskier let out a startled squeal, spinning around and suddenly having the decency to cover himself with his lute. "I did no such thing!" He claimed, the lie clear in his scared, blue eyes.

"I'll teach you to cheat me!" The man said, trying to push past Geralt.

Geralt immediately stepped between the two of them, shoving the man back with a single hand, an irritated frown on his face. "Let's not do something we'll regret over a single harmless game of gwent."

"Harmless?! I'm going to teach this fucker a lesson is what Imma do!" The man spat, his anger clouding his judgement.

"I suggest you think better than putting a hand on him." Geralt growled in response, crossing his arms and standing up straighter, making their height difference more noticeable. His back was turned to Jaskier, but he could sense Jaskier relaxing behind him.

"Yer boyfriend here is a liar and cheat! We don't take kindly to those kinds around here. Don't take kindly to witchers either."

Geralt sighed and raised his hand, casting Axii. "Leave, and don't tell anyone about this."

The man's angry facial expression dropped, being replaced with a dazed one. "Leave... don't tell nobody..." he muttered as if in a trance. He turned around and left the room with no other argument, closing the door behind him.

Geralt spun around angrily to see Jaskier grinning at him sheepishly, still covering himself with his lute. "Is it possible for you to go anywhere without starting shit?"

"It got us a room last night, didn't it?" Jaskier replied cheekily.

Geralt sighed in frustration, grabbing his few belongings and sword. "I'm leaving." He wrenched open the door, not bothering to close it behind him.

"Wait!" Jaskier squeaked behind him.

Geralt ignored him and made his way downstairs and out of the inn, thanking the barkeep with a nod of acknowledgement on his way out. He exited the inn, despite hearing Jaskier call for him upstairs. He made his way over to the stables to find them empty, and whistled for Roach so that she would return. Jaskier stumbled outside, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked, one boot on and the other carried in his arms with his lute and bag. "You're not coming with me." Geralt mumbled when Jaskier dropped his belongings to put his other boot on, hopping up and down to work it on his foot. Roach was taking too long and so Geralt whistled louder, and heard a neigh in the distance and the sound of hooves coming in their direction.

"That's an interesting trick." Jaskier said curiously as if he hadn't heard Geralt. "If she can just come at the sound of whistle, why did you tie her last night?"

Geralt spun around, looming over Jaskier angrily. "I always tie her up in situations where I might need a quick getaway, which is something I may need anywhere. I felt as if I wouldn't need to worry about that last night when no one treated me as many treat witchers, but all it took was you being dishonest and cheating someone to turn a peaceful situation into one where I need to flee to prevent any violence from happening." In his defense, Jaskier did look remorseful at that bit of information. "I should have just let him pummel you, maybe you would have learned your lesson."

"You can't possibly mean that." Jaskier replied in a tiny voice.

Geralt closed his eyes and took a calming breath as Roach galloped up to them, nudging Geralt's arm. He opened his eyes and gave him Jaskier a very specific 'do not follow me' look before mounting her and urging her towards the road. It didn't surprise him when he heard Jaskier grabbing his things and following behind.

"I'm _sorry_." He whined from behind Roach. She whinnied and kicked out a bit, and Geralt smirked at the yelp and scuffle as Jaskier dodged her hooves. Jaskier just jogged up closer to her side. "I was low on coin, all right?"

"Your songs about me seem to be bringing in plenty of coin. Might I suggest that you stop purchasing Everluce bottles at a time if coin is your concern?" Geralt wasn't sure why he didn't just ignore the bard, why he didn't just dig his heels into Roach's side and have her gallop at a speed Jaskier wouldn't be able to keep up with.

Jaskier scoffed. "And what? Drink stout like a commoner?"

Geralt rolled his eyes. His next contract couldn't come fast enough.

Geralt found a contract in the next town over. It wasn't difficult, just the villagers wanting some Drowners taken care of in the river that ran through the town. To Geralt's immense annoyance, Jaskier was continuing to follow him, holding Roach's reins (she was not pleased) and watching him take down the monsters with awed wonder. As if to annoy Geralt further, the moment Geralt mounted Roach again, the bard started strumming his lute and attempting to write a new song about the defeat.The peasant that posted the contract tried to pay Geralt what little coin he had, but when Geralt found out that the man's son had been drowned in the river by the beast, he couldn't find it in himself to accept the coin. The peasant offered to board them for the night, eyeing Jaskier curiously, but Geralt turned him down. He didn't like staying in towns longer than absolutely necessary, especially when earlier a woman had called him a freak and spit in his direction when he was using an anvil to hone his sword. Setting up a small camp in the forest outside the town was the safer choice. It's not that Geralt feared his treatment, but there had been plenty of times in which town folk had forced his cards, and he had been forced to kill in self defense. During those times, he got no satisfaction from raising his blade.

Geralt was roasting a chicken, an insistent gift from the peasant, on the open fire when he realized that Jaskier had been suspiciously quiet. He was idly fingering the strings of his lute, trying to find an order of chords he was pleased with. Geralt said nothing, he had no plans to look a gift horse in the mouth. But when he offered Jaskier some chicken, his face lit up and Geralt had to fight the small smile that attempted to spread across his lips. Jaskier flopped on his back on a blanket, licking the meat juices from his fingers when he finally spoke. "I'm sorry. That you and Yennefer didn't work out."

Geralt stiffened and grunted. "It's of no real loss."

Jaskier sat up, rolling his eyes so dramatically that his entire head moved with the motion. "Oh, please. The last time I saw you, you were as smitten as a farm boy seeing his betrothed the day of their wedding."

Geralt eyed him with annoyance. "It's nothing. You've heard the stories. Witchers are emotionless."

Smiling, Jaskier gave him a confident, knowing look. "And what did you say just the other night? Those stories are just that, stories." Geralt glared at him, willing him to shut the fuck up for once in his life. "Don't you give me that look. It's true. Of course, we've all heard the stories. The emotionless witchers, nothing more than monsters themselves, are incapable of feelings. Puh-lease." His smile grew into something softer. "That may be the case for many of your kind, but that's not the case for you. You're more human than the best of us."

"What do you mean?" Geralt asked uncomfortably.

Jaskier lit up at Geralt genuinely engaging with him. "You are..." he mimed an explosion with his hands. "Pure compassion and empathy. You could have taken that farmer's coin. And the chicken. Fuck, Geralt, you could have taken his entire farmland using one of your little spells, or even just a threat. But you did the job for free. Because you _do_ experience emotions. The purest ones." Geralt didn't say anything, just frowned thoughtfully and poked at the fire with a stick. He saw Jaskier grin out of the corner of his eyes. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."

  


Contracts came and went, and Jaskier continued to follow Geralt from town to town, settlement to settlement. His complaints were many and constant, and Geralt was strongly considering sneaking away to hire a mage to give him a potion that would cause the bard to lose his voice, if only for a day, but the company was... something Geralt was begrudgingly getting used to. He had previously had no issues with speaking to Roach when he felt like he went too long without speaking to anyone, but being able to have a conversation with a creature that could respond was...nice. The concept made Geralt highly uncomfortable, but many things about Jaskier often did. The extra coin was also welcome. Jaskier's songs were loved by many, and Geralt had learned arguing with Jaskier about their truthfulness was wasted breath. Things weren't entirely unpleasant.

That was until a contract involving a pack of barghest fell into Geralt's lap.

Barghest were particularly vicious beasts, wolf-like in both appearance and their tendency to attack in packs. An ill-tempered woman set on vengeance had practiced dark magic to eventually be able to produce the curse to summon them after finding out her betrothed was having an affair and got his mistress pregnant. She originally summoned the creatures to kill her fiance' and his pregnant mistress, but the woman was incapable of harnessing the magic well enough to disperse the curse surrounding the pack of barghest, and they were running rampant, slaughtering everything in sight from cattle to children.

"You need to stay back for this one." Geralt said, checking his bags for his needed potions and oils after sheathing his recently purchased sword at their camp. His last sword was beyond repair. He had been a few coins short, but the merchant was a young lady completely enamored by Jaskier's charm and good looks, and after flirting with her and serenading her with a song about her beauty, all it took was Jaskier batting his eyelashes for her to cut Geralt a deal. Sometimes the bard was worth putting up with. "This isn't like my recent contracts. Most beasts attack whatever is near by, or whatever provokes them, without thought. Barghests are methodical, they're just as intelligent as wolves, but much more dangerous. They won't just allow you to stand to the side and admire my work." He gave Jaskier a small smile. He had recently called him out for his enthralled admiration of Geralt's fighting, and Jaskier had become so flustered that Geralt had been teasing him ever since. He dropped his smile for a more serious expression. "They won't hesitate to kill you."

"What if I were to sit upon Roach and flee if need be?" Jaskier asked, looking worried.

Geralt snorted. "Like she would allow you to ride her. Regardless, it's too risky. She's staying here too. She's fast, but if the curse was strong enough to produce an alpha, I'm not fully convinced she would be able to outrun it."

Jaskier frowned. "Which means you wouldn't be able to outrun it."

"Hmm. Guess you're right."

"Isn't there someone else who could take the contract?" Jaskier asked, standing from his spot next to the fire. He began to pace nervously. "Or at least help you? You said they attack in packs. What if there are too many? What if there are too many _and_ an alpha? How will you manage to kill them all?"

"Are you questioning my capabilities as a witcher?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow when all of his items were secured. "I guess you have been embellishing my stories after all."

"Now is not the time for your attempt at jokes, Geralt!" Jaskier exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips.

Unexpected irritation flared up within Geralt. "This is my _job_ , Jaskier. You knew what you were signing up for when you began trailing me. What am I supposed to do? Decline a contract every time it's something that makes you want to shit yourself?" He snapped. "I've accepted the job, so either I will complete it or die trying."

"Oh, well excuuuse me for being worried!"

"I don't need you to worry!" Geralt growled, stepping forward and causing Jaskier to immediately step back. "I don't need anything from you." He sized Jaskier up before turning on his heel, heading in the direction that the barghests had last been seen. "You are to stay here. Practice one of your shitty songs while you're waiting."

Geralt was surprised to hear no retort, but Jaskier often surprised him, even after all the time on the road. He traveled for just over a mile, alternating between walking and jogging to keep his heart rate up. When his witcher senses alerted him of the barghests' presence, he drew his silver sword, enhanced with the appropriate oils and began to slowly stalk forward. Just ahead he saw the beasts, ravaging an elk they had found and hunted. There were six of them, and Geralt didn't miss the irony in that seeing as they were the closest thing to hellhounds he had ever experienced. There appeared to be no alpha, and while defeating this particular monster was never an easy feat, he had the element of surprise and the lack of an alpha gave him the upper hand. As a precaution, he reached in the small bag at his waist and pulled out a vial, chugging the putrid concoction inside. He felt his pupils dilate entirely, blackening his eyes as he felt the potion's effects coursing through him. He sprinted forward, driving his sword into the chest of the first barghest. It yowled in pain and then jumped away, all of its pack members turning to him with a growl. They all lunged together, and Geralt rolled away, bringing his sword down on the closest one as the others jumped away. Raising his free hand, Geralt casted Yrden, slowing them down enough to kill three of them with only minor trouble. The remaining three caught onto his tactic and attacked him all at once, driving him out of the Yrden symbol and biting and ripping at every inch of him their teeth could reach.  
  
Geralt managed to roll away again, ignoring the pain from his new injuries. He alternated between attacking them and rolling and jumping away until only one of the beasts remained. Geralt adjusted his grip on his sword. "Come on, you ugly fuck. It's just the two of us now."  
  
The creature just stared at him, not attempting to attack but not attempting to flee. It then tossed it's head back, letting out a deep, mournful howl. Moments later, Geralt heard the footsteps and barely had enough time to jump out of the way when a much, much larger barghest's teeth came within inches of his throat. "Fuck." Geralt muttered. There was an alpha after all. "Not good."  
  
Geralt managed to avoid the alpha's attacks, attempting to use Yrden again to no avail. He was dodging flawlessly despite the monster's speed, but he could feel his own stamina wearing down. He managed to slay the last remaining barghest so that he could focus all his attention on the alpha, but he was growing tired from blood loss and exertion, and in the time it took him to blink, the beast had him pinned. He protected his face using his blade, the alpha's sharp teeth snapping around the silver as he felt it's disgusting, hot drool drip on his face. He tried to shove the creature off of him, but was growing too weak, and struggled to keep it off of him.  
  
A shrill neigh pierced through the sounds of the barghest's jaws snapping around Geralt's blade, and Geralt looked away from it just long enough to see Jaskier riding in on Roach, clumsily holding Geralt's old sword in his hand. Jaskier attempted to slash at the monster, but his movements were slow and unpracticed, and the barghest jumped away with ease, freeing Geralt, but in the process Jaskier took a tumble off of Roach, falling to the ground with a sickening thud and a moan of pain. "Shit." Geralt gasped, jumping to his feet and helping Jaskier up as roach surged forward, kicking at the barghest. Geralt whistled and motioned for his horse to fall back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Geralt growled in Jaskier's ear, steadying the bard on his feet.  
  
"Saving your ass." Jaskier replied with a grin, and false confidence. The barghest rushed them, and Geralt shoved Jaskier out of the way, having just enough time to deliver a deep gash in the beast's shoulder. It was losing a lot of blood now, giving Geralt the advantage he definitely needed. He heard the sound of the scrape of a blade against soil as Jaskier picked up his old sword. The bard ran forward, yelling with all his might, and hacked at the monster's leg like he was swinging an axe. It barely drew any blood, the blade near it's breaking point, and the barghest was on him in seconds. The creature almost completely covered Jaskier and all Geralt saw was a spray of blood and heard the sound of jaws snapping when he drove his blade into the back of the barghest and straight through it's heart. The beast fell heavily on a coughing and spluttering Jaskier, and Geralt ripped the creature off of him. There was a deep gash on Jaskier's chest, the blood running freely and Jaskier spit up blood with another cough. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck." Geralt growled, dropping his weapon and placing his hands to the wound to try to stop the bleeding. Jaskier was gasping for breath and scrabbling to help Geralt stop the blood, the red staining their hands a stark contrast to the terrified blue of the bard's eyes. "I'm going to fix this..." Geralt muttered, hoping that he was convincing Jaskier more than himself. He opened the bag at his waist, shuffling through the vials with shaking hands. He pulled out the correct vial and emptied its contents onto the wound. The flesh sizzled and foamed, and Jaskier let out a blood curdling scream, but the bleeding stopped.  
  
It was a temporary fix. The wound was still deep and needed to be cleaned, and the amount of blood the bard had already lost was concerning to say the least. Geralt whistled for Roach and when she cantered over, he slowly lifted Jaskier up on the horse. Jaskier grabbed for the saddle with slipperly, blood soaked hands. Geralt sheathed his word and mounted the saddle behind him, bracketing Jaskier's body with his arms and he leaned forward and grabbed the reins. He urged Roach back to camp as fast as the mare could carry them.  
  
  
  
The next hour was a blur of blood, potions, and Geralt being far too concerned by just how quiet Jaskier was. Jaskier had slipped into a sleep, and Geralt couldn't stop himself from constantly checking to make sure the man was still breathing. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged. Witchers healed at a rate much too fast to need trivial things like bandaging, but Geralt had stocked up on them just in case, for Jaskier. He didn't want to think about the fact that he had long since stopped trying to chase Jaskier off and was planning for him instead, he didn't want to think about what that meant. He watched the slow, steady rise and fall of Jaskier's chest with concern when Roach walked up and nudged him.  
  
Geralt reached out, stroking her neck when she leaned down far enough to allow him to reach. "You let him ride you." Geralt muttered in awe. Roach let out a small noise of acknowledgement. "I know. He has an annoying habit of growing on you, doesn't he?" He sighed and dropped his hand, watching Roach walk away to graze as if she knew the conversation was over. Geralt glanced back over at the sleeping bard. "You have to be the most annoying man I have ever met in my life. I don't think you realize the significance of that, don't think you realize just how long I've been on this godforsaken earth." He sighed. "But you are brave. Dumb as shit, but brave. Not many men would have done that, nevertheless a bard. And your songs... they're not as terrible as I would lead you to believe. They're irritatingly inaccurate, and some of the rhymes are forced, but they're incredibly catchy. I would never give you the satisfaction of knowing, but that first one you wrote about me, the one about tossing a coin to your witcher... it's been stuck in my head more times than I can count. I caught myself _humming_ it the other day while hunting deer. "  
  
"I-I think that is the m-most you've ever said to me at one time." Jaskier stuttered, his eyes slowly opening and blinking a few times. He rolled his head over to look at Geralt and winced at the movement, looking exhausted from that alone.  
  
"How long have you been awake?" Geralt asked, too weary to even be concerned with the answer.  
  
"Long enough to know I was right about you." Jaskier muttered softly before his eyes slipped closed again.  
  


  


"I'm going to train you to fight." Geralt said with absolutely no leading into the conversation. A few weeks had passed since the barghest attack, and with the help of magic and an _incredibly_ expensive scarring salve Jaskier insisted on, other than his movements still be a little stiff, the bard was practically as good as new. Geralt had decided to start out small, purchasing Jaskier a small dagger and knife sheath belt. The blade wouldn't do much damage against the kind of beasts Geralt hunted, but it was sharp enough to skin a deer and would at least protect him from _people_.

"I beg your pardon?" Jaskier had just settled into his blanket on the ground. There was still plenty of daylight left, but he had been complaining about his feet hurting and wanted to set up camp to give his 'swelling ankles a rest.' That would be Geralt's next investment, buying the man boots for the road. The boots Jaskier always insisted on fit his outfits and personality with their tassels and fine leather, but they weren't made for traveling long distances and Geralt was still forcing him to walk alongside him instead of hopping up on Roach. He supposed eventually they would have to get another horse. He looked over at Roach a few yards away fondly. He wasn't sure how she would feel about that.

"I'm going to train you to fight." Geralt repeated. "At least enough to defend yourself. I won't always be here to save your ass." Jaskier frowned at that statement. "In the very least, you should be able to use this dagger to your advantage." Geralt approached the man, handing him the dagger and sheathing belt. Jaskier looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes. He was wearing periwinkle blue, a recently purchased outfit, and it brought out the blue in his eyes. Geralt wasn't a bard himself, and didn't think he could write a song to save his life, but there was something to be said about how his immediate thought was that he could drown in those eyes.

Jaskier took the dagger, looking over it carefully. Geralt was relieved that he didn't comment on it. The dagger was nothing special, but Geralt had it personally commissioned from a blacksmith, and while the metal wasn't the finest, the handle had been hand crafted beautifully, white with intricate designs of blue. Geralt refused to acknowledge there was something to be said about that too. "It's beautiful, Geralt." Jaskier murmured when he unsheathed the blade, his eyes wondering over detail.

"Doesn't matter what it looks like. Only matters if it can save your life." Geralt muttered. "Now stand up." Jaskier reached for his boots. "Never mind those. This is just practice." Jaskier stood up, stretching dramatically. It was a sight to behold, blue really was his color. The bard slung the belt across his hips, buckling it in place and then extending his arms and looking at Geralt expectantly for approval.

"Hmm." Geralt acknowledged. "You need to move it further this way. Your right hand in dominant, you want to be able to access it easily without having to look down." Geralt reached for the belt without thinking, his fingers brushing the inside of Jaskier's hip as he adjusted the belt. He felt Jaskier stiffen and look up at him. Geralt met his eyes, his hands still firmly gripping the belt. Jaskier swallowed hard, not breaking their eye contact, and Geralt jerked the belt further to one side, accidentally pulling Jaskier closer to him by it's leather at the motion. Jaskier swallowed again and his pupils dilated, his lips parting to allow in more air like he had forgotten to breathe. Geralt smirked and dropped his hands. "Now attack me."

"Wh-what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice a pitch higher than it had been moments ago.

"Attack me." Geralt repeated, spreading his arms compellingly. They were standing so close that Jaskier should have easily been able to drive the blade into his gut, but he knew the bard wouldn't be able to. Jaskier reached for his knife with unsure, shaking fingers, his eyes still stuck on Geralt's. He wondered what it was like for human's to see his catlike eyes after being so accustomed to the normal, round pupils and colors of their fellow species. If Jaskier gave anything away, Geralt's bright yellow irises and vertical pupils were a sight to see.

"I don't want to-"

"You're not going to hurt me." Geralt interrupted cockily. "You and I both know that."

Jaskier made a face and pulled the dagger from it's sheath, trying to drive it forward in Geralt's stomach. Geralt easily blocked the attack, grabbing Jaskier's hand and pushing it upwards to that the blade was at Jaskier's throat. Jaskier was breathing heavily, and when he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed close to the blade enticingly,distracting Geralt for a moment. It gave Jaskier enough time to quickly raise his knee, effectively hitting Geralt in the balls. Geralt groaned and stumbled away, his hands immediately went to cover himself as he hunched over and coughed, trying to ease the pain. "You didn't say I had to fight fair." Jaskier taunted, adjusting his grip on the handle and spreading his legs, lowering his shoulders. It was a fighting stance. He had been paying attention to Geralt's battles.

"I don't know why I expected you to." Geralt growled. "That'll do for now because this isn't about fighting fair, it's about keeping you alive." Geralt straightened up with a wince. "Now again. And _do_ try to attack _me_ with the blade, and not my balls." Jaskier lunged forward and Geralt once again blocked the attack, taking the dagger from him and spinning him around so that Jaskier was pressed against his chest and the blade was once again pressed against his throat. Jaskier squirmed against him, his ass grinding against Geralt's crotch and Geralt immediately shoved him away. Now was not the time for the direction his brain was going in, especially not with his balls still throbbing. He handed the dagger back to Jaskier and said "You're not as bad as I was expecting. You handle a dagger much better than a sword. Again."

They practiced for an hour, until he sun began to set and Jaskier's movements started to slow as he became tired. Jaskier was a faster learner than expected, apparently he _could_ listen, he just never _did_. He just had the same, pathetic stamina of a human, and he was tiring quickly. "One last try, and I'll find us something to eat." Geralt promised, taking mercy on the bard. Jaskier sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. He was covered in dirt and sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead and Geralt ignored how his fingers itched to brush the strands away. Jaskier rushed forward, his blade closer to its target than it had been all evening, but Geralt still blocked it, grabbing Jaskier's arm with both hands. Jaskier raised a cocky eyebrow and let go of the dagger, catching it with his free hand and slicing a small cut into Geralt's bicep.

"Geralt, I'm sor-"

In a split second, Geralt had Jaskier on the ground, pinned beneath him in the dirt, his knees bracketing Jaskier's hips. "Would you ever stop your assault to apologize to someone that's trying to kill you, boy?" Geralt growled, just inches from his face. Jaskier's eyes were wide, impossibly blue, and he exhaled slowly, going lax in Geralt's grip with pupils dilated to the point where Geralt could barely see the irises. That was...interesting, and Geralt tried to brush off as the fading light as evening bled into night. He was also trying to dismiss the apparent boner digging into his ass as a result of fear and adrenaline. They breathed the same air for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. It would be so easy, to lean down and capture Jaskier's lips, just inches from his own. Geralt growled in frustration and stood up abruptly. "I'm hunting rabbit tonight. I'm sick of deer." He muttered, disappearing into the brush without another word.

Hunting a rabbit didn't take long, but it was a welcome distraction that helped Geralt clear his head. He managed to find and kill two, deciding to make the night's meal a little bit more elaborate than he normally did. Jaskier was a shit cook, and was not to touch any of their food. He returned to their camp twenty minutes later, the rabbits already skinned. Jaskier always made a face when he did it in front of him. Jaskier was poking at the fire thoughtfully, and his face lit up when he saw Geralt. Geralt hated the affect that that reaction had on him, warmth always pooling through his being at knowing that Jaskier was always pleased to see him, even if it was because he provided food and protection.

Geralt started a stew, even going as far as to add potatoes and some herbs from his alchemy collection. It smelled mouth watering, a far step above just shoving the meat on a stick and letting it fry above the flames like they normally did. He even grabbed a loaf of bread from one of his bags, and though it was stale, dipping it in the stew would be a nice addition. "We'll need to find a river soon." He heard from behind him. He looked over to his shoulder to find Jaskier holding his waterskin upside down, not a drop falling out. Leave it up to Jaskier to run out of water.

Geralt grunted. "You can have some of mine." He tossed his own waterskin to Jaskier, who clumsily caught it, shaking the contents.

"Oh, this won't do at all. You used most of yours for the stew." He complained. He stood up, reaching for his boots. "There was a river just a ways back, I'll go fetch some-"

"Don't!" Geralt barked. He had noticed wolf prints when he had been hunting, and the terrifying image of Jaskier being attacked filled his head. Jaskier gave Geralt an offended look. Geralt sighed and stood up, returning to Roach to rummage through her saddlebags. He inwardly cringed as he pulled out a bottle of Everluce and handed it and two cups to Jaskier. Jaskier took the items from him, but raised his eyebrows teasingly. Geralt stared at him blankly, keeping his facial expression neutral. "I won it in a game off gwent two towns ago while you were off fucking some whore." He growled.

Jaskier's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, but a small, pleased smile spread across his face, lighting up his facial expression. "A stew, bread, _and_ my favorite wine? Why, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you were trying to romance me, Geralt!"

Geralt swallowed hard but ignored him, finishing the stew while Jaskier poured them some wine. When the stew was finished, they got their respective servings in two bowls and settled in while they let it cool. Geralt refused to weigh himself down with trivial things like eating utensils, but they could sip it from the bowls just fine. "Jaskier..." Geralt mumbled through mouthfuls of food, thoughtfully. "I've always thought that was an odd name. Even for a bard."

Jaskier froze, bread in his hand and mouth still open expectantly. He snapped his jaw shut and lowered the bread, staring at the fire. "It's, uh, not my real name. Well it is, but..." Geralt stared at him expectantly, admiring how the man's cheeks were lighting up red with a blush in the fire light. "It _is_ my name, it's just not my name in English. My name is..." He squirmed uncomfortably and Geralt smiled. He didn't think Jaskier was capable of embarrassment. Jaskier looked at him, immediately growing annoyed at Geralt's amusement. "My name is Dandelion." Geralt snorted and choked on his stew, as Jaskier glared daggers through him.

"Dandelion? Like the weed?"

Jaskier scoffed. "Hey, now! Dandelion's are perfectly acceptable wild flowers!"

"They're weeds, Jaskier." Geralt argued.

Sighing, Jaskier traded his bowl out for his cup, draining the last dregs of his wine and pouring another cup. "Call it what you will, Geralt, but as you can imagine, I was teased mercilessly growing up. I don't know what my mother was thinking." He made a disgusted face. "Imagine being named after a weed." He added sadly.

Geralt observed him for a minute, not liking the sad, distant look on Jaskier's face. Perhaps the reason he had no self preservation stemmed from the fact that he had bullied at a young age. "We can... claim it's a flower, if that helps." Jaskier pursed his lips together to hide an amused, albeit thankful smile. "Besides, a flower suits you better. Jaskier, a delicate little flower..."

Jaskier's jaw dropped, as dramatic and offended as ever, and he threw the remainder of his bread at a laughing Geralt.

  


The days, towns, and contracts all came and went. Jaskier had become a formidable opponent in their training, at least enough to ease Geralt's mind that a husband wouldn't stab him to death after finding out the bard had fucked his wife. But that was the thing... Jaskier's wild sex life lessened and lessened until it disappeared entirely. Geralt wondered if it was something he said, if him teasingly shaming Jaskier was actually beginning to make him feel bad. That's how they ended up at a brothel a few weeks later. Geralt had no real interest in having sex, but figured it was a good way to blow off steam. Jaskier had an odd look on his face but accepted the offer, though he completely dragged his feet on the way to the establishment, and once inside his eyes didn't light up the way they used to at the prospect of tits and wine.

"Hey there, handsome." A velvety voice said to Jaskier the moment they were inside. It belonged to a curvaceous woman with long, light blonde hair clad in the bare minimum excuse for clothing. "Want me for the night?"

"I, uh, thank you for the offer, m'lady. But we just arrived, see, and I would rather us settle before making any commitments." Jaskier stumbled over his words, but gave her a charming smile and wink before she nodded and walked away. Geralt raised a questioning eyebrow and shrugged, leaving Jaskier to approach the bar.

Halfway through his drink, a brunette had worked her way into Geralt's lap, and he couldn't be bothered by it because he wasn't even sure where Jaskier was. "I've never fucked a witcher before." The woman purred into his ear. "I might have to do this one free of charge."

Geralt gave her a confident look, tempted to show her just what she was missing out on, but stood instead, lifting her by the hips and gently placing her in front of him. "I'll have to accept that offer in a little while. I have to find my friend first, make sure he's not off somewhere pissing off your madame."

"I'll be here." She replied, her voice tantalizing and just low enough so that you had to lean in to hear what she was saying.

It didn't take long to find Jaskier in a corner, the blonde from earlier glued to his side. It wasn't surprising, what was, was that the bard's tongue wasn't down her throat, and they were just talking. The moment Jaskier noticed him, his eyes lit up like they always did, and Geralt noticed an almost relieved look on his face. "Geralt! There you are. I was just talking to Violeta here, and I think I found us a contract."

"You found a contract?" Geralt replied, an amused smile on his face. "In a place like this?"

"Yes, well, it turns out that monsters don't discriminate. "

Violeta explained that a man had come in the previous night, attempting to drown his sorrows in wine and women after seeing a beast slaughter his cat. Violeta told them everything she knew, and by the end of Geralt's questioning, he knew what they were dealing with was a cockatrice, a monster that floated somewhere between bird and reptile. The lore was that their gaze could turn a man to stone, but Geralt knew that it only worked on humans and that they had to be fully matured. They often didn't make it to maturity, they were rare and a favorite for griffins to feast on.

"An easy kill." Geralt replied. It would be a frustrating battle requiring a lot of magic to combat the speed, ferocity, and flying ability of the beast, but Geralt had dealt with worse. He dealt with Jaskier everyday. He thanked Violeta and turned to Jaskier. "You can stay here. In fact, I would prefer for you to." Jaskier frowned and looked... hurt? "This is not a fight you're well equipped for, Jaskier. You haven't trained enough to handle a monster like this, I would trust you with a drowner on dry land, at best." Geralt gave him an apologetic look, and headed for the door, not wanting to see Jaskier's reaction or witness him leaning in to kiss the prostitute.

"Don't forget to talk to the innkeeper!" Violeta called after him. "He's the one who told me, and he'll probably give you a night's stay for free if you can kill the beast!"

Jaskier didn't listen. He _never_ listened. The battle itself wasn't particularly difficult for Geralt, but protecting himself _and_ Jaskier proved to be challenging, and when he got in a tight spot, Jaskier panicked, grabbed Geralt's bag from the ground, and chucked it at the cockatrice's head. The creature just blinked at him in confusion, but when Geralt's bag hit the ground, he heard the shattering of every single one of his potions vial's being broken. It was a collection that had taken _months_ to perfect, and even longer to track down the ingredients for. The creature turned on Jaskier, widening it's eyes and focused on Jaskier, and the bard found himself glued in position as if he had turned to stone. Geralt used the distraction to chop off the beast's head in a fit of rage. _Months_ , and now he didn't have a single potion to show for it. He whipped around on Jaskier, he sword dripping with blood, but when Geralt saw the fear in his companions eyes, he realized he probably looked like a madman. He wiped the blood on his shirt and sheathed the weapon, turning on his heels and storming for the exit of the sewer he had tracked the monster to. Jaskier called out after him, the shuffling of him grabbing Geralt's virtually useless bag echoing in the sewer, but Geralt ignored him, and wondered why he didn't do that more often.

Violeta had been right about the innkeeper, and the gentlemen did offer Geralt a night's stay on top of the coin he was promised. "Get your own room." Geralt growled, making his way to the room as Jaskier clamored behind him.

"Have you been listening to a word I have been saying?!" Jaskier whined.

"Hmm. That's an interesting way to start a conversation." Geralt replied.

Jaskier gasped theatrically. Of course Geralt had heard his litany of apologies the entire way to the inn, but he was still unbelievably pissed that Jaskier would do something so reckless. He made his way inside the room, pleased to find it was one with it's own bath, and began stripping unceremoniously. The action actually got Jaskier to shut up, if only for a moment. "I don't _want_ my own room." Jaskier argued.

Geralt continued to ignore him, testing the water with his toes and finding it hot and ready for him, soap bubbles and flowers floating on its surface. If only every human was grateful enough to treat witchers like this. He slid into the hot water, relaxing marginally. Like always, he was filthy and covered in blood, while Jaskier had missed most of the fight and barely had a speck of dirt on him. At least he had been safe, though Geralt was almost too angry to even think about in the moment. Jaskier looked at him sadly, a pitiful, thing, with soft apologetic eyes, and Geralt hated himself for how he felt his anger subsiding, for how all he could think about was at least the bard was okay.

Jaskier dropped Geralt's bag on the bed, and carefully started combing through it's contents as to not get cut while Geralt bathed, watching him. As Geralt predicted, nearly everything was shattered glass, nothing salvageable. "Aha!" Jaskier exclaimed triumphantly. He pulled a small bottle of oil from the bag, smeared with other potions and oils, but not cracked nor broken nonetheless. "We can search for more ingredients to replace the others." He said quietly, raising his eyes to look up at Geralt, obviously struggling to keep his eyes exclusively on Geralt's face and not wander his nude skin. "I know this sort of thing takes a long time, but-"

"A long time?" Geralt interrupted, rinsing himself and reaching for a towel. "Months, Jaskier. One of those potions alone had an ingredient that took me over a year to find, and required me to dive to the bottom of a lake and take on three drowners while holding my breath." He climbed out of the bath, drying himself with the towel an then wrapping around his waist. Jaskier was eyeing him hungrily, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with Jaskier's libido.

"So, you're cross about me saving you? Is that it?" Jaskier pressed.

"Saving me?!" Geralt growled, stalking towards him. Jaskier immediately stepped back, but the back of his legs hit the bed and he had nowhere else to go. Something about Geralt being able to intimidate him even in nothing but a towel fed his ego. "Despite what lies your songs may weave, you don't ever, _save_ me. I get in binds all the time, but I've always come out on top _without_ your help." Jaskier looked hurt, and Geralt wasn't sure if it helped his cause, or only made Geralt angrier.

"There's no need to be angry about me trying to _help_ you." Jaskier replied quietly, appearing much smaller than he actually was.

"I'm not just angry about that, Jaskier. I'm angry that you _never_ stop talking. I'm angry that your songs are constant lies, despite how they make me look. I'm angry that you _never_ listen, and always almost get yourself killed." Geralt was stepping forward with each item on his list. "I'm angry that I haven't had a moments silence in months. I'm angry that I constantly have to worry about you, constantly have to look out for not only myself, but you as well." He was so close to Jaskier now that their chests were bumping, and Jaskier looked panicked. Geralt sighed. "And I'm angry that this has been going on for so long now, that I couldn't imagine my life any other way."

That's all it took. Jaskier's eyes widened to the size of saucers, things finally clicking, and he was on Geralt in a second, bringing their lips together frantically, desperately, as his fingers worked their way into Geralt's still wet hair. Geralt kissed him back with fervor, immediately scrabbling for the back of the bard's thighs to hoist him up. Jaskier didn't hesitate to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist, smiling into the kiss as how easily Geralt had lifted him, how effortless it had been. Geralt eased Jaskier onto the bed, using his hand to swipe his bag to the floor, ignoring the sound of more broken glass and pressing Jaskier bodily into the mattress, his towel slipping from his waist. Jaskier moaned as Geralt licked his way into his mouth, opening up for him as one of Geralt's hands worked his way under the man's shirt, roaming smooth, hot skin. Geralt broke the kiss to work his lips down Jaskier's jawline to his throat, nipping and sucking the skin there. "You're wearing too much clothes." He growled.

"Y-yeah." Jaskier replied dazedly, untangling his fingers from Geralt's thick, grey hair long enough to work his hands between the two of them and begin to unbutton his shirt. He got the shirt open and Geralt immediately trailed his kisses lower, mapping out every inch of skin with hungry, attentive care. He left marks as he went, claiming Jaskier, so that anyone that tried to touch him knew exactly where he had been. He worked open the bards pants, shoving past his underpants to palm at the man's hard cock, smirking against his chest when Jaskier gasped and moaned at the feeling of Geralt's hand on him. Geralt was pretty sure this was the only time Jaskier had ever been quiet in his entire life.

Jaskier leaned them forward, Geralt accommodating with ease, so that he could remove his shirt, tossing it haphazardly to the floor before working on pushing down his pants and underpants and wiggling out of them. Geralt leaned back and stood up only to remove them both with one swift, fluid movement, and soak in the miles of nude skin that he had been wanting to get his hands on, wanted to get his mouth on for months. He smiled at how Jaskier blushed, all of his feigned confidence thrown out the window with Geralt now looking at him like he wanted to devour him. Geralt climbed on top of him again to bring their lips together, his large hands roaming bare skin, stroking goosebumps to appear and spread like wildfire, coaxing moan after moan from Jaskier.  
  
Geralt thrusted his hips forward, grunting in pleasure at the feel of their cocks sliding together. Jaskier was leaking a steady stream precome that lubricated the friction, and he whined hungrily in response. Jaskier's hand had found their way to Geralt's hair again, but disappeared as he searched the surface of the bed, finding the bottle of oil from earlier and shoving it into one of Geralt's hands. "What-?"  
  
"You know damn well why I'm handing that to you." Jaskier snipped, causing Geralt to chuckle.  
  
Geralt opened the bottle carefully, pouring some of the contents onto his fingers before reaching between Jaskier's thighs and reaching around to gently prod at his hole. Jaskier tensed up at first, but Geralt kissed him into relaxation and gently eased a single digit in slowly. Jaskier let out a stifled, pleased sigh and pushed down against the finger, moving his hips to take more and more. Geralt opened him up slowly, teasingly, not even attempting a second finger until Jaskier was mad for it, begging and pleading. Carefully working him over, Geralt finally stopped after three fingers had stretched him open, almost missing the feeling of Jaskier fucking himself on Geralt's fingers when he finally removed them. Geralt then oiled up his cock, pressing against Jaskier's hole until he slowly eased inside and not stopping until Jaskier took every last inch of him. Geralt steadied his breathing, allowing Jaskier to adjust and pulling back to see his face and make sure he was alright. Jaskier was a site to behold, his chest flushed, his eyes glazed over and consumed by their pupils, sweat beading at his temples. He was beautiful, and Geralt cursed himself for thinking so. "Fuck." He groaned as he pulled back and pushed back inside Jaskier slowly, but powerfully, unable to take his eyes off of Jaskier as the bard met his gaze, biting his lip and moaning with every thrust. He vastly preferred Jaskier making this kind of noise.  
  
He quickened his pace, snapping his hips just on the right side of rough, his fingers leaving bruising marks on Jaskier's skin. Jaskier reached for his shoulders, his hands slipping from the sweat at first, but as soon as he got a good grip, he began thrusting his own hips to meet Geralt's pace."Geralt." He moaned in a breathy voice, and that's all it took for Geralt to come inside of him with a growl, not stopping his pace as he reached between them, jerking Jaskier off until he finally spilled all of his hand. Geralt collapsed on top of him, his cock slipping out of Jaskier as it begin to soften, and Jaskier huffed in annoyance. "You're heavy." He whined, trying to push the witcher off of him. Geralt chuckled and rolled himself over, flopping over on the bed next to him.  
  
That's when Jaskier started laughing. "Oh I cannot _wait_ to write a song about this. I never thought I'd have my brains fucked out by a witcher."  
  
"You are _not_ writing a song about this." Geralt responded seriously.  
  
Jaskier just laughed again and rolled so that he could grab his lute from the floor, no longer shy about his nudity. He began strumming the strings and singing. " _But who would have thought. a witcher consorting with a bard? As it turns out, the cockatrice's gaze isn't the only thing that can make me rock haaard_ -"  
  
Geralt just tackled him with a laugh, silencing him with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This _may_ become a series in the future, but for right now is a stand alone. I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always welcome. :) (Edit: All it took was four days. Four days for me to decide that I love writing this ship, and that it WILL be a series.)
> 
> Just a heads up, a few people have been commenting about how Jaskier’s real name is Julian and not Dandelion. I actually knew this already, I was just taking my own artistic liberties to create a cute scene that gave Geralt an excuse to tease Jaskier, and showed Jaskier opening up to Geralt about something private. It’s also one reason why I didn’t specifically mention anything be Polish, because it would actually translate to “buttercup”, not “dandelion”. It’s something that’s going to come up later in the series, in a very adorable manner.


End file.
